


Hunith

by BellaP



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaP/pseuds/BellaP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur didn't have a mother, but he had Hunith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunith

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Merlin from BBC doesn't belong to me.

Arthur didn't have a mother.

It was a fact. Something that he didn't think about since he was declared old enough to not to have a maid taking care of him anymore. And if he was a little bit cruel and ironic, he could say that he also didn't have a father. What he had was a lord, a sire, a king, but not a father. Not in the literal sense of the word. When it was needed, Uther sometimes remembered that that blond boy that was the reason why he lost half of his heart and soul was his son. When it was necessary, the only thing that Uther remembered was that that blond boy for whom he sacrificed his beloved wife's life was his heir, the same one he was teaching under an iron fist to be Camelot's future king.

Arthur didn't have a mother.

But this didn't stop him to look with envy inside his clear eyes to the other noble boys that usually went running to their mothers, with tears in their eyes, looking for some comfort and loving words. He couldn't do that. First because the only female presence in his life was the previously mentioned maid. Second because he was the prince. Such attitude was below his royal position.

Arthur didn't have a mother.

However for many and many times he wished to have one when the summer's storms used to strike Camelot with full force, making the castle's windows rattle because of its thunders, scaring the poor child, alone in that big room, to tears. Or when one of his tutors was more strict than normal, leaving him with bruises and scratches from the sword fight, making him want to have her waiting for him in his chambers with opened arms ready to embrace him and to kiss away all his pains while whispering words of encouragement at the same time that delicate fingers were caressing his hair.

Arthur didn't have a mother.

And in those split of moment when he used to see Uther give him a far away look, like the person that was in front of the king wasn't the prince but another that made the man remember old and painful memories, he wished he had one. Just to scream to her all his frustrations and ask her why. Why she died. Why she left him behind with a man that with every passing year was becoming colder, specially around his heart. Why she passed away and left as a gift, like a cruel joke, in him eyes that weren't like Uther's, full lips that weren't like Uther's, blond hair that wasn't like Uther's, fair skin, long eyelashes, straight nose, everything looking back at him in the mirror that was screaming that he was Igraine's son, not Uther's.

Arthur didn't have a mother.

But in the second he entered that village after hours of a long trip, after hours under Tristan's constant complains, after hours under Merlin's pitiful gaze, after hours under Isolde's contemplative glances, only to feel thin arms around his neck, bringing him against a warn body, making him relax and promptly forget all the pain, in his body and soul, nothing more mattered to him. When he saw bright blue eyes smiling at him, when calloused fingers caressed his face full of dirt, when wet lips kissed his cheek and a soft voice whispered to him:

"Welcome home child."

The wound that was opened the moment he met this world because of another person sacrifice was finally healed.

Because Arthur didn't have a mother.

But he had Hunith.


End file.
